Patron Saint of Posting Bail
by Brownish
Summary: Harry keeps shelling out for the Carpenter kids. Oneshot, futurefic.


Sandra had decided that if she was going to do desk duty – particularly the prisoner release desk – then she was going to have to make her own fun. She'd started by giving nicknames to the people who came to collect their friends and family members. The man with the penetrating stare and tortoiseshell glasses was Old Turtle. The mother with the fake tits and smile was California Plastic. The tall, stern grandmother was Old Hickory. And when the man in the leather coat came through the doors, Sandra immediately dubbed him Gunslinger. It wasn't just the coat, it was the way he walked; a confident stride, not arrogant but sure of his own power; like he could walk up to a wall and it would vanish. Gunslinger had a backpack on one shoulder, and Sandra noted that it looked heavy without being full. She kept a eye on Gunslinger, but he just walked up to the counter, muttering under his breath.

"What am I, the patron saint of misbehaving Carpenters? Molly, Matthew and now Alicia. If Amanda ever calls me, I'm just going to hang up on her…" He reached Sandra's desk, and stopped the muttering to give her a weary nod.

"Harry Dresden. I'm here to pick up Alicia Carpenter."

Sandra nodded, and buzzed Jim to bring Carpenter out of lockup. "Uncle?" She asked sympathetically.

"Friend of the family," he replied. "All the kids are terrified of their mother's disapproval, and they know their dad tells her everything, so…" He shrugged helplessly.

"And you aren't going to tell their mother?" Sandra asked with a little smile. Harry was pretty cute, and ringless, and her love life had been so thin the last few years that that was all it took.

"Depends," said Harry, scratching his unshaven chin absently. "What's she in for?"

"You didn't ask her on the phone?" Sandra teased, sorting through the stack of paperwork indicating who was currently in her custody.

"I kind of forgot to ask," Harry said sheepishly. "And she forgot to tell me, of course."

"Of course," Sandra said, mock-seriously. "Ah. Underage consumption of alcohol in a public place. It's a misdemeanour, so there's no bail; she just needs to be released to the care of a responsible adult." She raised an eyebrow. "Are you a responsible man, Mr. Dresden?"

"I try to be," he said with a wry grin, then frowned. "Is this going to be on her record forever?"

"If she stays out of trouble until she's eighteen, it will be sealed automatically. Everyone screws up as a kid, after all."

His smiled again, this time without humour. "Very true."

Jim led the topic of conversation through the reinforced door, a cute brunette girl with glasses. She ran up to Harry as soon as she saw him, and hesitated for a long moment before hugging him.

"Harry, I'm so sorry. I just didn't want mom to find out, and you were the first person I thought of, and—"

"Alicia. It's all right." Harry gently disentangled the teenager from him, but kept one hand on her shoulder as he turned to Sandra. "Can I talk to her before I do the paperwork?"

Sandra smiled. "Sure. Just use the couch against the wall." She bent over the incident report from a prisoner taking a swing at her earlier in the day, pretending not to eavesdrop on the conversation across the room. Listening in on awkward conversations was another way she squeezed some enjoyment from desk duty.

"Drinking alcohol in public, Alicia?" Harry said gently. "How did that happen?"

"It – it was stupid," Alicia admitted. "It was…I agreed to go out with them, they said they were going to go down to the park. I didn't know there was going to be beer, and – well. I didn't want…them…to think I was stupid."

"Uh huh," Harry said. "I think I'm getting the picture. Do 'they' have a name?"

There was a long pause. "You can't tell mom and dad," Alicia said at last, so quietly Sandra almost couldn't hear it. "Promise."

Harry frowned. "If you're in some kind of trouble—"

"No, nothing like that!" Alicia said. "It's just…I'm not ready to tell them yet."

"Well…all right," said Harry. "I promise not to tell them, unless they need to know."

"Harry--"

"No, Alicia," he said firmly. "I can't promise not to tell them unconditionally. That won't work for anyone. They're your parents, and if they need to know, they will." He paused. "But only if they _need_ to."

"Um, okay," Alicia said, and bit her lip. There was a long silence.

"Are you going to tell me?" Harry asked calmly, as though the answer was of no consequence to me. Alicia squirmed about on the battered couch, and when she spoke it was a rapid stream of words that blurred together.

"Her name's Cassie, and I really like her, and I think she really likes me, and she tried to tell the cops I hadn't been drinking but they wouldn't believe her even though it was true and I was just holding her drink while she played on the swings." She stopped for breath, and seemed to realise what she had said. "Uh."

Sandra risked a peek over the counter. Harry looked predictably stunned. "Um. Is this…a new thing?"

"With Cassie, or with girls?" Alicia shot back. "Because I never liked boys. I didn't really _like_ anyone until…"

"Until you did," Harry finished. "How serious is it with Cassie?"

"We haven't, you know, said anything to each other," Alicia said awkwardly. "But we hang out together a lot, and I think she was going to kiss me tonight but she decided not to. It's…well, scary. Jennifer Boughton came out at the start of the year, and now none of the girls will talk to her."

The two were silent for while, then Harry spoke.

"Well, I'm not going to tell your parents," he said. "They don't need to know, and you probably need some time and space to figure things out. But," he paused for emphasis. "Your parents would want to know. If things get serious with Cassie – or with anyone, really – I think you should let them know."

"But they're so – we go to church every Sunday!"

"Alicia," Harry said. "Your parents would never treat you any differently, or love you any less, and it's silly for you to worry about that."

"Really?"

"Really," Harry said with conviction, and a hint of wistfulness. "I think they'll drive you mad once you start dating, no matter who or what gender you start with."

"That's _so_ reassuring, Harry," said Alicia; but she said it through a laugh. Harry stood up.

"I've got to sign some paperwork, then we can go." He frowned. "Aren't your parents going to notice you getting home so late?"

Alicia blushed, and suddenly found her fingernails very interesting. "They think I'm staying over at Melissa's house."

Harry shook his head. "_That's_ something I'm going to have to tell them, Alicia. They have to know where you are; there's good reasons for that."

"Yes, Harry," Alicia murmured, still not looking up.

"Right."

Sandra had the forms ready; Harry scanned them quickly, signed at the bottom, and blinked. 'Sandra Marling' was written at the bottom in red ink, along with a phone number. He raised an eyebrow; she let the corner of her mouth curl upwards.

"If I have any questions about Alicia's stay here, I can call you?" Harry asked.

"Certainly," said Sandra.

"I'll have to think of some," Harry murmured. "Come on, kid," he said over his shoulder. "We're busting out of the joint."

"Harry got picked up at the police station," Alicia said in a sing-song voice, jumping to her feet and winking at Sandra.

"Yeah, well," Harry said as he put an arm over Alicia's shoulders and guided her out the door. "If you tell anyone, you'll have to explain why you were here as well…"

Sandra watched them go, then jumped as Jim spoke directly into her ear.

"Bad idea, Marling. I wouldn't get involved with the Wizard of Oz there, no matter now big his magic wand is."

"What are you on about?" Sandra said.

Jim shook his head. "That's Harry Dresden, Chicago's king of the weird. He's bad news."

"A wizard?" Sandra said, and shrugged. "I've dated weirder."

"They say he's mixed up with Marcone's crew; that he's some kind of hitter with a gimmick. He's got a habit of turning up at crime scenes, or places that are about to be crime scenes. The DA's tried to run him in for murder twice, but it doesn't stick."

"Maybe I'll ask him about it over dinner," Sandra said archly, a little freaked by Jim's recitation of facts but trying not to show it.

"Your funeral," Jim grunted, turning to go back to his little desk at the door to the holding cells. "Maybe literally," he added, before shuffling around the corner.

Sandra leaned her elbows on the counter. Tied up with Marcone? Well, that was just a rumour so far. And Harry had a nice smile.

*

This is set rather in the future, with Alicia in her last year of high school. Short oneshot.


End file.
